Page 100 of The Stranger in Room Six
‘Well, we would be very happy for you to carry on living here.’
‘Really?’
They nodded. ‘It would give me great pleasure,’ added Olive.
‘I will visit regularly,’ chipped in Beryl. ‘This is a lovely place to bring up a child. And if your young man comes to find you, well I am sure we can find one of the farmers or fishermen to give him a job.’
‘But if he doesn’t turn up, you’ll find that there’ll be plenty of other so-called widows here too,’ said Olive meaningfully.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I’m talking about young unmarried girls, deserted by their men, who find themselves in the family way. All they have to do is move to another area where no one knows them, pop rings on their fingers and pretend that their husbands were killed in the war. It happened in the Great War and it will happen again. People treat them with more respect with a ring than if they admitted they’d had a child out of wedlock.’
Mabel shuddered at the thought of Antonio being killed.
‘Now don’t give that any more thought. We’ll sort it out when the time comes.’
But even as she spoke, Mabel felt a strange stirring inside. ‘Oh!’
Horrified, she stared down at the damp rug. How could she have wet herself like that?
‘I’m so sorry,’ she gasped.
‘Her waters have broken,’ whispered Olive. ‘She’s early.’
‘I’ll go for help,’ said Beryl grabbing her coat.
The pains came fast.
‘Hold my hand and squeeze it when you need to,’ said Olive. ‘Keep taking long deep breaths.’
Beryl came rushing back in a few minutes later, her face red from exertion. ‘The midwife’s been called to the hospital and the doctor is with one of the land girls who got injured by a tractor.’
‘Then who will deliver me?’ Mabel cried out.
There was a silence.
‘It will be all right,’ said Olive, finally breaking it. ‘Beryl, fetch me my old nursing bag, will you? It’s under my bed.’
‘But …’
‘Did you hear what I said?’ There was a steeliness and gritty calm that Mabel had not heard in Olive before.
Each time a wave of pain came, one of the sisters mopped her forehead until it passed.
‘You’re doing really well, love,’ said Olive. ‘Now, Mabel, I want you to push. Baby’s coming much faster than we thought. He or she is clearly keen to meet you! That’s right.Push!’
And there it was. The sound of a cry. A cry like a song of wonder and love.
‘You have a little boy!’
Olive was weeping. So was Beryl. But Mabel just stared at this lovely, perfect little figure gazing up at her, eyes like a wise old man’s.
‘Antonio,’ she whispered. ‘Welcome, my son.’
He began to cry.
‘Let me help you put him to the breast,’ whispered Beryl, her eyes glistening. ‘That’s right. Oh, Mabel. He’s beautiful.’
